


Lullaby of a 21st Century Child

by MiscWorker



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26652370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiscWorker/pseuds/MiscWorker
Summary: A commissioned backstory of a young woman and her time growing up, in her own spotlight while the main story is developed.You can commission me work like this too!





	Lullaby of a 21st Century Child

I never met my Mom, except for when I was born, if you want to count that, I guess. Besides that and maybe a few other times after when I was too young to remember anything, I’ve only seen her in the scarce photos we have. I feel like she looked prettier than those digital photos really show for her, but I wouldn’t ever be able to know.  
For a while when I was still a kid, my Dad just told me that she had to go to a bunch of different places: the first few times, he said she was at my grandparents’ home in the midwest because grandpa was sick; then it was that she was sick, but she’d get better soon. Eventually he just suddenly stopped caring about lying and told me the truth flatout.  
I was eleven, and he had just come home late from work, with a strange grayness in his eyes. I think this was when his hair was starting to grow thin, too.  
“Sara,” he said, throwing his keys onto the table, “You were supposed to be in bed an hour ago.”  
“But you weren’t here yet,” I said. I stood at the foot of the stairs of our apartment, holding the handrail on the wall like I always did. “I don’t want to sleep when you’re not home.”  
“I know you felt safer with a babysitter around, but I can’t keep paying for them to watch you… You have to get used to going to bed on your own.”  
“I also wanted to ask you a question, Dad.”  
“Is that really why you stayed up?”  
I bobbed around, feeling attacked that he saw right through me, “Yes… Is Mom better yet?”  
He stared at me for a moment. If I knew better at the time, I might’ve realized he was too tired to deal with that question right there and then, but with nothing else to look forward to or think about in the world, I always had to know how Mom was doing.  
Finally, he sighed, saying, “Sara, dear… Mom’s not going to come back here.”  
“... Is she going back to grandma and grandpa’s?”  
“No, Sarah, she’s… Not going anywhere.”  
It felt like my eyes were spacing out away from him, as I couldn’t really understand what he was telling me. “Where is she, then?”  
Dad ran his hand down his face, his eyes turning shiny, and he rushed me up the stairs, saying, “Come on, it’s time for bed. No more staying up this late.” He led me up the stairs into my bedroom and pulled the covers over me as I settled into bed.  
“Dad, where is she?” I asked again.  
“Sara… I hope she’s in heaven, or some place like that.”  
“Heaven?” We weren’t exactly the sort to go to church, so the word to me was for a place literally on Earth somewhere, and if only…  
“She’s dead. She was very, very sick. She hurt a lot, and when people hurt a lot and they’re not happy, it’s hard for them to… keep on going.”  
“O-Oh.” My response came out like a whimper. I didn’t immediately start crying, but it was like I just got punched in the stomach, making it hard for me to say anything.  
“It’s okay. She loved you, Sarah… She loves you still. I love you, too. It’ll be okay.” He kissed me on the head, the fuzz of his beard brushing against me, and he said, “Go to sleep. You can’t stay up this late on school nights.”  
He went to close the door on his way out, but I lastly asked, “Dad? Do you hurt?”  
“No, Sara… A little, I do, but not like how Mom did. I’m fine.”  
“Are you happy?”  
He paused, turning his head away from the light in the hallway so his face was hidden in his own shadow. “I’m happy as long as you’re happy, sweetheart… Goodnight. I love you.” He closed the door, and his footsteps faded to downstairs where I listened to the usual pattern of him opening a soda, or so he called it, then the fatbox television turning on to one of his shows.  
I don’t know if I just didn’t have the heart to say it or I didn’t know if it was true, but I was not happy; thinking about it now, I don’t think I was ever happy. I’ve had moments of happiness, but they came and went fast and then I was feeling down again. I didn’t get to make too many friends at school because I just got made fun of for being poor, which I guess came from my clothes and having the same backpack every year, I think…  
I didn’t exactly understand what it really meant when Dad said that Mom was dead either. Of course I knew what death was, but I just didn’t imagine it could actually happen to someone like her, or any of us at the time. I thought caring about someone or being close to them just, I don’t know… It just seemed impossible.  
So then I realized how screwed up everything really was: Mom couldn’t come back because she was dead. Dad works forty-eight hour weeks doing pest control, or something like that, and our apartment was kinda, well, cheap. It all sucks when it starts to come to you what it means to be “poor”, but what really hurt was me realizing how much of a crappy father Dad is.  
I remember I started seeing the school counselor every week a few years later in my eighth year of school, and even though I begged her to not call Dad or anything like that, she does so because she was worried about what was going on at my home. She was right to worry, since I’ve been getting slapped just because I would argue a little with Dad, but I knew he’d just get angry. I didn’t even tell her anything about that.  
I was doing homework in my room when I heard Dad come home one night, which I didn’t think much of anyway. I had stopped coming down to welcome him home for a while, since he always had something to complain about with me or with work or something else, and it was really starting to piss me off.  
But this time, he came right up to my room to see me, which honestly scared me as I sat in my bed with my book and papers in my lap.  
“Hey,” he said with his hands at his waist. The grayness in his eyes were really apparent at this point.  
“Hey..?” I didn’t look up at him.  
“I was out on the field today,” he said as he walked in, “And I got a call from your school.”  
I looked away from my homework and immediately said, “I didn’t do anything!”  
“Yeah, you did. What are you going to the school counselor for?”  
“I… Uhm… I just am.”  
“For what?”  
“To talk?”  
“About what? Because I got a phone call from someone named Ms. Dovery or whatever, and she’s asking if ‘anything happens at home’.” He looked at me with intense eyes. I felt so locked in place, I couldn’t say anything back.  
“I told her not to call you…”  
“Well, I’m glad she did, because now I know you’re telling her that shit happens here when nothing does at all!”  
“I didn’t tell her anything happens at all!”  
“Then what the hell are you telling her? Or should I call and say she’s making shit up?”  
“I-” I moved over and sat up on the bed, “I just go in, and I tell her that… I feel bad about school because I don’t have many friends, and… Dad, I’m not saying anything bad.”  
“Are you telling her you’re depressed, or something?”  
I stumble over my words, unable to respond.  
“I was out in the field, with a backpack of chemicals and shit, standing in the hot sun while I argued with some know-it-all bitch who was trying to tell me that I was abusing you at home! I am not going to put up with that kind of disrespect!”  
“It’s not disrespect!”  
“So you are telling her things?!”  
“No! I’m…” I choked and started to cry, “Why are you being such a jerk?”  
“Look, Sara… I’m not trying to be a jerk. But I’ve got a lot on my plate as it is, and the last thing I want is someone trying to tell me that I’m not a good father despite all the shit I go through. I don’t know what you’re telling people, but reckless words is what can get you taken away from me. Is that what you want?”  
“N-No, Dad, no…”  
“Then what are you so upset about that you have to talk to some teacher about that you can’t tell me?”  
“... Just everything, okay?!”  
He blinked at me, “Everything?”  
“I hate living in this crappy neighborhood! I’m always afraid when I wake up in the middle of the night and hear a gunshot down the road and then the police come later! And I hate that every kid on the schoolbus knows I’m poor when it comes get me because they see this stupid apartment I live in, and nobody wants to be friends with me because I don’t have a phone, or barely anything for music except CDs, and… And you’re the only one I can talk to but you’re always so angry and annoying and you say to go away-”  
“That’s because-”  
“You’re just so rude, Dad!”  
“Listen! Do you think I like living here myself? Do you think that I’m not slaving away every damn day for you? I’m doing all this for you!”  
“Well, Mom probably would’ve shown that better…”  
“I-” He raised his voice at me, “I give you food, snacks, TV, cooling and heating, fucking all this shit, and you’re just entirely ungrateful for it!” He gestured at a poster of a band on my wall, “I- I get you these posters when I see them because I know you like their music and I just want to make you happy, but you never, ever show that you’re happy, and that… I just want you to be happy for once, Sara, or at least tell me why you’re not happy.”  
“I’ve tried to talk to you, but you just tell me ‘Oh, you don’t know what you’re saying,’ or, ‘Oh, you’re not old enough to understand.’”  
“Because you don’t know what you’re saying,” he said aggressively, “And you’re not old enough to understand. Why would I say any of this to you if it weren’t true?”  
“I don’t know, but… You also drink, and whenever I want to talk to you, you’re-”  
“Wh-What? What? I never get drunk around you. Ever.”  
I shrugged, unsure how to respond to that blatant lie besides with, “Okay, Dad.”  
“Sara, do you hate me?” he asked.  
I didn’t answer, feeling entitled to look away and make a rather nasty face instead, but he asked again, so I answered, “Sometimes.”  
“Sara,” he said, “I wish you didn’t hate me ever. I’m sorry that you feel like that, but I love you. I don’t do anything in the world to hurt you or scare you.”  
“Yet you slap me just for arguing about wanting a few things, or-”  
“I’m not made of money, Sara. I really, really fucking wish I was, but I’m not. You’ll understand when you have to get a job and support yourself one day.”  
“Apparently I’ll just be as miserable as you.”  
“Come on, don’t be like that… I made my own mistakes when I was young. I didn’t go to college like I could’ve and I took up debts I shouldn’t have.”  
“And now I have to deal with your mistakes and live in this crummy place?”  
“I do what I can, alright?!” He rubbed his face, lowering his voice, “I don’t want to see you end up like me. Fine, I’ll say it- I’m not a great role model. Are you happy? I’m not perfect, Sara. But I love you, and I’m your dad, and I’m doing everything I can to make sure you’re safe, fed, healthy, and happy. I just want you to understand how much that takes out of me, please.”  
“... Fine, Dad…”  
“Good… Look, I’m sorry, Sara, please-” He got down on his knee and hugged me, but I didn’t hug him back, “I just want you to be happy, so badly. I’m trying everything I can… It would be easier if Mom was here, but she’s not. The world isn’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean you can’t try to be understanding. Alright?”  
I nodded slightly, “Yes, Dad.”  
“Anyway… Just please, watch what you say to others. I don’t want you to be taken away from me. People always take things out of context or the wrong way, and… Just watch your tongue, please.” He rose up and went to my doorway, “I’m sorry I scared you if I did… Keep doing your homework. You have to do well in school to get a scholarship, so you can go to college… I love you, Sara.”  
He waited for me to say it, but I was too grumpy to say anything back, so he left with a sigh and closed my door. I sighed to myself too, shaking my head irritably. It was still all bullshit, I thought. It’s just unfair when I see how great things are for other kids at school- kids with both parents still, and they have money to spare for better clothes and even video game consoles. Gosh, I would love to even just have divorced parents so I could see my Mom.  
It really never felt better after that. I stopped seeing my school counselor out of both fear of her making another call and just general spite against her doing so initially, and it was my last year before going into high school anyway, which really just established my hate for school. I made a few friends, but they were such dorks and I couldn’t talk to them about my situation, and the social norm really took out any confidence I ever once had with people my age- now, I’m afraid to talk to anyone, because like my Dad goes to show, everyone just gets annoyed by what I do or say, so it’s better if I just do and say as little as possible.  
School never got easier either. Dad was at least right about me doing well in school, because no way in hell did I want to end up like him, but math got more complicated and the books we had to read was just too confusing, and I hated my science classes so much that I couldn’t bring myself to do anything in them. The only class I enjoyed at all were my computer classes, where being in front of the screen was the only time I ever had confidence in what I was doing. I was even helping other students with their work when I was finished with mine, which surprised even myself. I was a different person entirely in those classes.  
But being good in one class doesn’t mean anything for a stupid, bullshit scholarship, so I graduated with mostly D’s and C’s with a few A’s across any computer-related classes but nothing to show for it but a diploma- the same thing Dad has, which meant I was going nowhere if I didn’t have the money. I just didn’t know what to do- I was ruined.  
The only thing that gave me any ounce of happiness was when I had a school laptop that I could take home and use the slow, cheap internet that my Dad eventually got after years of not wanting to, only finally getting it just to do some of his digital paperwork at home. I would talk to some people online, and I made a few online friends who I could connect with well, but no matter how well we got along and connected, they eventually just disappeared with no trace. I guess people just had better lives that weren’t worth spending just talking to me.  
Even though we weren’t allowed to, I downloaded one MMORPG game on my laptop, which could barely perform on it but was just enough to entertain me. It was the first game I was able to connect with and became obsessed with, and it was such a lifesaver too- something to distract me from all the school and living with my Dad and all that! I could also interact with other people and play with them, and talk to them all day, and…  
It was so much fun. But then when I finished school, I had to give up my laptop and go back to having no outlet with the rest of the world except through my own, stupid self that couldn’t even talk to people correctly, and I couldn’t help but scream at my Dad for just… being such a dunce!  
And now, I think he hates me. He wanted me out of his home so bad that he gave me the money to move into an apartment elsewhere and live away from him. I just feel so confused about what I should think of him, and I don’t know if anything is my fault, or his, or both of us, or if it’s just the world being unfair!..  
I mostly just block it all out now, otherwise I would go crazy. He sends me money every month while I collect unemployment, since nobody wants to hire a dumb girl like me when I can’t work or talk to others, and I just try to find people to talk to online. It’s all just in messages and text when I talk to people, which really feels underwhelming after a while. If I could talk to them like how I normally think, I would be so much happier, but everyone is just so intimidating and it feels like my whole life is on the line when I try to, so… I just keep it limited. It’s better to not annoy anyone at all.  
Now, it’s been a few years since I moved out from my Dad’s home, and I just spend my days playing games and talking to people. Honestly, I was happy to be able to go back to that MMO game I love and play it for hours without any worry of interruption, but now it just feels like another thing, but with no point.  
But then, I found someone on there: his name’s Joshua, and we’ve been playing as a party in the game for a long time now. He’s really good at the game, and he knows a lot and seems really smart. Normally people aren’t nice to me since even after playing the game a lot I’m still not the best at it, but he’s so friendly and invites me to play with him all the time. If I was confident enough, I’d try to talk to him about more things besides the game: his life, what he likes, what he wishes for… Maybe he would understand me.  
I always type the question of voice chatting with him when I’m messaging him, but I delete it before I send it every time. It’s hard to not think about it but then be thrown off by the chance of not liking me, or how I sound, but I really want to hear someone’s voice again, and hopefully from someone who would like me.  
I really don’t want to wait anymore. I don’t have anything else to look forward to, so it haunts me every slow day and night. I send him a friend request for a messaging platform that we could call on, and after a bit it gets accepted. For the first time in a while, excitement overwhelms me, and I can’t stop myself from immediately calling him, hoping that he’d be available enough to answer.  
And he does answer! I take a deep breath then unmute myself, asking as nicely as I can, “Hello?... Are you there, J?” I don’t want to give the impression that I’m too pitiful at all. It’s better if I sound happy.  
Then I hear a male’s voice, probably young but definitely not younger than me. I’m not good at figuring out that sort of stuff: “Hey. What’s going on?”  
He didn’t deliver that same happiness- he sounded like he wasn’t really into calling at all, and from that impression I lost a lot of my confidence. I didn’t want to annoy him, like with anyone, but it seemed like I already screwed up and was doing so by calling him out of the blue. It threw me off a lot, considering how I’ve always imagined how he sounded: I expected a voice with the confidence and ego I wish I had, strong and wise because of his knowledge and helpful to anyone who asked. But no- instead he sounded grim, lowly, and as if his silence had been rudely interrupted by me.  
I just didn’t get it. I wondered if I was overthinking it?.. But then, it occurred to me that maybe he wasn’t happy either. If anyone was to understand me, it might be someone who wasn’t all that happy themselves- if Joshua wasn’t happy, then I’d have to find out why. I guess my Dad was right about that one thing: the world isn’t perfect, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try to be understanding.  
I guess it was time for me to try and understand someone else.


End file.
